


rest for the weary

by tinuviel_tinuviel



Category: The Ascendance Series - Jennifer A. Nielsen
Genre: F/M, catering specifically to my desires to see these two talk and then rest, ft. why imogen doesn't take orders, mood: tired and gentle, set during the captive kingdom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:55:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28723923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinuviel_tinuviel/pseuds/tinuviel_tinuviel
Summary: Mott stood. “I’ll keep watch until one of you comes to relieve me in a few hours. Until then, Imogen, make sure he gets some sleep. No doubt, the hardest part is yet to come.”--in which Imogen and Jaron take a much-needed nap
Relationships: Jaron Artolius Eckbert III & Imogen, Jaron Artolius Eckbert III/Imogen
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	rest for the weary

_ Mott stood. “I’ll keep watch until one of you comes to relieve me in a few hours. Until then, Imogen, make sure he gets some sleep. No doubt, the hardest part is yet to come.” _

As he went to his post, I rubbed my eyes, exhaustion overtaking the remains of my anger. My short sleep earlier that day would have to suffice for now. I needed a plan. Imogen was right, and Mott and I both knew it; following the Prozarians to Belland was risky. But I could not abandon Amarinda and Roden. And if Darius truly was alive…

That thought was cut short by a hand at my elbow. I could see that Imogen was still unhappy with me, and I didn’t blame her. “I’m sorry,” I said. “If there were another way—”

“I know,” she said.

“You’re not going to try to convince me we shouldn’t go?” I said. I could not afford to change my mind on this, but Imogen’s disapproval weighed on my thoughts like an anchor.

“We can’t abandon Amarinda and Roden,” she said. “I wish it weren’t so dangerous, but—” she swallowed, and changed the subject. “I’m glad you’re safe, and here. No disagreement changes that.”

In the west, the last patch of blue sky was fading into the dark of night, and the brisk evening wind was turning cold. Mott stood at the ship’s wheel, eyes on the horizon, but I suspected he could hear snatches of our conversation. “I’m glad you’re safe too,” I said softly, patting Imogen’s hand on my arm. “And thank you for still talking to me.” When she was angry, or frightened, or overwhelmed, Imogen sometimes slipped back into muteness, though her days of mistreatment at Farthenwood were years behind her. Her words now were doubly reassuring.

She tilted her head. “Come on, I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

I had planned to take the next few hours, if not the rest of the night, to come up with a plan. There were a thousand ways for things to go wrong when we reached Belland. I didn’t think I could sleep even if I tried. “You go on,” I said, without meeting her gaze. “I’ll be there soon.”

She wasn’t fooled. “Jaron, you need to rest.”

“I will rest!” I said. “Eventually.”

It sounded like a lie even to me, and she knew me too well to be so easily daunted. “Do you want to get me in trouble with Mott? He said to make sure you slept,” she said, a note of teasing entering her tone.

Weakly, I protested, “I thought you didn’t believe in taking orders.”

“I don’t believe in taking orders from  _ you." _ She pulled firmly at my elbow and I let her tow me belowdecks.

“And why is that?” I asked, climbing through the hatch after her.

“Because I don’t want the love earned by an obedient servant.” She nudged my ribs. “And besides, it wouldn’t be fair. I don’t try to give  _ you _ orders.”

“You could,” I said, wiggling my eyebrows at her.

“Alright, then,” she said, and smiled. “Go to sleep.”

“That’s cheating,” I protested. Imogen ignored me as we stopped in front of a pile of rope and fabric near the front of the boat. Or maybe the back. The cramped space belowdecks was lit only by a single swinging lantern, and I wasn’t paying much attention to the layout anyway. With a discontented noise, Imogen pulled the fabric— perhaps a torn sail?— over the mass of ropes— a fishing net, by the look of it.

“It looks like someone plundered my nest,” she said. “There had been some blankets.” We both turned to squint at the other end of the boat, where Fink slept snoring, curled into a ball and wrapped in a few threadbare quilts. “Oh, well,” she said lightly. “I suppose we have twice as many people onboard now.”

“This is where you’ve been sleeping?” Even ‘nest’ seemed generous. “The fisherman should have given you his bed!”

“He saved my life, I wasn’t going to take his  _ cot," _ she said. “It’s hardly his fault he wasn’t prepared for guests.” She crawled into the center of the pile and admitted, “I wasn’t sleeping much, anyway. Here, lie down.”

I still felt a twist of fear and guilt urging me to make an excuse, to pull rank, to punish myself with hours of wakefulness in penance for letting my loved ones be captured, but I couldn’t bring myself to disappoint Imogen. And she wasn’t the only one who had not been sleeping well. I had been plagued by nightmares since we were separated. She looked at me with sympathy and I gave in. “Alright.”

The knobbly net dug into my back and the whole affair smelled faintly of fish, but after a few moments’ shifting, I got settled with one arm under my head and my shoulder against Imogen’s.

“See?” she murmured, pulling a flap of sail over her feet like a blanket. “Not too bad.” I could feel the rise and fall of her breathing against my shoulder. Overhead, the lantern cast dim shadows that swung to the rhythm of the rocking waves. Slowly, like spilled honey, calm spread through me.

“No,” I agreed, yawning. “I should listen to you more often, shouldn’t I?”

“Mmhm.” A moment later, she scooted closer, her head coming to rest on my shoulder.

Mott would have his way; I would rest. Anything to spend a little longer like this. “Sweet dreams, Imogen,” I whispered, but she was already asleep. She must have been as tired as I was. Smiling, I closed my eyes and leaned my head to rest my cheek against her sea-smelling hair. I slept without dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> The title, of course, is an adaptation of the expression "no rest for the weary," which is what happens in canon. (I felt ROBBED when Captive Kingdom had the actual line "Imogen, make sure he gets some sleep" and then we didn't see that happen! Robbed, I tell you!)  
> Drop kudos and a comment, or come talk to me at @piratekingimogen on tumblr! :)


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